


Surprise!

by Doctor_Discord



Series: Trauma AU [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Body Modification, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insanity, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: The Host’s power gets…a bit out of hand, sometimes. The egos get additions they don’t normally have.
Relationships: The Host/Dr. Iplier
Series: Trauma AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739428
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	Surprise!

The Host could no longer control himself.

He was the keeper of realities. The keeper of the future. But with his mind broken and sanity shattered, things got a bit…out of hand, sometimes. He couldn’t control it. His aura would appear and disappear at will, fluctuate, and power would pump into his words without him meaning to. Which tended to mean that, whichever reality he currently thought he was in, tended to bleed through.

The manor was the focal point. _Nothing_ was ever completely right anymore, since the Host spent most to _all_ of his time there. The egos had gotten used to ‘additions’ randomly appearing, though they’d fade within a couple hours. Usually. Dark once got stuck with black, coiled ram horns for a couple of days, but it was fine. The additions never hurt anybody. They just…took a second to get used to when they appeared.

Wherever the Host went, though, the other egos in the room were bound to spout _something_. The Host’s mind was practically a tear in the fabric of reality now. He bled much more than literal blood and ink. Wherever he passed – when he wasn’t in the manor, at least – things… _changed_. Sometimes it was minor, hardly noticeable. He could be walking down the street, and suddenly the paint job of a house would be a different color, or a fence would be missing, or a flag. But on the more _extreme_ side…sometimes _people_ ceased to exist for the few seconds it took for the Host to pass. It was… _terrifying_ , how unstable he was.

But it had its moments as well. 

Dark was sitting on the couch, reading, when the Host wandered into the living area from the hall, shaggy hair damp and plastered to his head. He looked less bloody than usual, though still _bloody_. It was…less of a _mess_ , at least. Dr. Iplier must’ve finally wrestled him into the shower. The Host’s hygiene was…less than great, nowadays. He never seemed to notice, but everyone else _did_. The other egos were beginning to be able to _smell_ him coming before they ever heard his muttering or actually _saw_ him. 

Dark glanced up when the Host entered, the black cat tail that had appeared about an hour ago flicking at his side. “Hello, Host.”

The Host jumped and flinched back, recoiling much like a startled cat. Dark didn’t even have time to properly process the reaction before the Host was standing straight again and smiling, ink staining his teeth and dripping out of his mouth. “Hello! The Host is just here for breakfast. He missed it, and now I’m quite hungry.”

Dark opened his mouth to comment that breakfast hadn’t been more than two hours ago, and that the Host _had_ been there, and he’d eaten quite a lot, in fact, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. The Host would probably ignore him anyway. 

Dark turned back to his book, but quickly glanced up again when he heard a dull thump.

The Host stumbled back, one hand pressed to his forehead, and his head tilted in confusion. Dark couldn’t see his face, but he _could_ see the bloody smear on the wall, just about a foot or two from the entrance to the kitchen. He blinked. Did the Host just try to…?

The Host took a few steps back, and walked forward again. Again walking straight into the wall, forehead smacking on the surface, and another red smear appearing from the fresh blood on his clothes. The Host shook his head, stumbling, apparently _very_ confused as he placed a hand on the wall. “That…usually works.”

Dark raised an eyebrow, tail flicking idly. “What usually works?”

“Going through the wall.”

The Host said it so _matter-of-factly_ , Dark was a little stunned. “What – what makes you think you can go through _walls_ , Host?”

The Host turned to him, brow furrowed with genuine confusion, the heel of his hand pressed to his temple. Ink splattered against the carpet. “The Host’s dead. He’s a ghost. That’s – that’s how ghosts work. They go through walls. Why can’t I go through walls?”

Dark set his book aside. “You’re not dead, Host. You’re alive, and breathing.”

“I am?” The Host glanced down at himself uselessly. Blood dripped heavily from his bandages, further staining the _white carpet_ of the living area. “No, I’m dead! I died, see?”

He rolled up his sleeves, bearing his arms to Dark. There was nothing there but skin, paler than most of the egos from hiding inside and in his coat 24/7, but unmarked in any way. Dark still winced at the implication. “There’s nothing there, Host.”

The Host tilted his head sharply, running two fingers down one arm. “Strange.” He tapped the underside of his forearm with those fingers. “The Host could’ve sworn I was dead.” He tilted his head the other way. “So…no walking through walls?”

Dark shook his head. “No. Just go through the entranceway.”

The Host spun on his heel robotically, head still tilted as he slowly shuffled over to do exactly that. But before he could, there was a loud crash from upstairs, and a startled scream that made both Dark and the Host jump and flinch. The Host covered his ears, muttering furiously, and Dark coiled into a tight ball, eyes suddenly wide and panicked.

It took a second for the reflex to fade, and when it did, the Host aimlessly moved away from the kitchen and back into the hallway, hands jammed in his pockets, and leaving drops of blood in his wake. Dark followed him up the stairs, to Dr. Iplier’s office.

He opened the door, and took a stunned step back, tail curling.

As often as the Host found himself in a realty with wings, he’d never actually made them _appear_ before.

Dr. Iplier stood in the middle of his office, massive wings flapping wildly in a bit of a panic. They were _big_ , and _blue_ , with white outlining the pretty blue feathers. They looked like they could blend right in with a perfect summer sky.

Dr. Iplier’s head shot up when the door opened, eyes wide with panic and confusion. Though his wings _did_ stop flapping and just stayed splayed out and open. “Um – they-they just _appeared!_ Scared the Hell out of me!”

The Host appeared to ignore Dr. Iplier’s words, grinning brightly and flapping his hands with excitement – something he never did before. “Doctor! Your wings!” He happily rushed over, strands of his damp hair falling in his face as he combed his fingers through Dr. Iplier’s feathers. Dr. Iplier shuddered, eyes slipping shut. He was moving his shoulders the same way the Host did, making his wings move up and down rhythmically. The Host was still smiling, petting Dr. Iplier’s wings, and he hummed. “The Host was wondering when they’d grow back. They’re so soft.”

Dr. Iplier and Dark exchanged a look, though Dr. Iplier was visibly having a hard time keeping his eyes open with the Host massaging and petting his wings. “…Grow…back?”

The Host nodded, but didn’t elaborate. He did frown, though, as he carded his fingers through the feathers. “Your feathers are all bent! Come here, I’ll groom them for you. As long as you promise to return the favor.” His own shoulders were moving now. At least they could finally put a visual to the movement.

Dr. Iplier nodded, letting the Host guide him to the bed. The Host sat cross-legged behind him on the bed as Dr. Iplier sat on the edge, humming something as he happily combed through Dr. Iplier’s feathers. It sounded a bit like ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ but…off-key, and slightly to the left. Dr. Iplier let himself smile, the panic of suddenly having _wings_ fading as the Host took care of him. “Hey…Host. Can you…remind me what _your_ wings look like?”

The Host gasped, lighting up, and immediately began rambling far too fast for _anyone_ to understand. Though Dr. Iplier doubted he’d be able to understand him anyway with his half-formed sentences and thoughts interjecting with each other. Still, he was happy, and Dr. Iplier let him talk, closing his eyes, and just enjoyed the strange, new, but _good_ sensation of the Host’s fingers in his wings.

Dark took that as his cue to leave, tail now gone. He was smiling, just a little. If the Host could find happiness in the aftermath of what had happened to them all…maybe Dark could – eventually – too.

**Author's Note:**

> _It's only downhill from here......._
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com


End file.
